


Emerald

by pinksundays



Series: After You [4]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Anxiety, Character Death, Eventual Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rival Relationship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 05:22:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17739800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinksundays/pseuds/pinksundays
Summary: There are some memories that Hawke has buried deep within him. This was the most painful one yet.





	Emerald

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for this chapter for possible emotional stress. Please get a pre-reader if you need to.
> 
> This scene is a flashback of when Hawke decides to lend his support to Orsino and his mages.

* * *

‘His eyes aren’t emerald’, Hawke once blurted out loud when Isabela, Carver, and Varric were discussing about their companions one night over drinks at the Hanged Man. Tipsy by the fourth drink, Hawke was resting his head on the table with his eyes closed. Alcohol made him obnoxiously loud, and though it also made him extremely sleepy, Hawke couldn’t help but correct them about Fenris’ eyes.

‘They’re forrrest greeeen. The kind you find on... moss! Orrrrr, if you venture too deep into said forrest!’ he slurred, suddenly sitting up and wagging a finger towards Isabela.

‘Oh? And how do you know that, Kitten?’ she purred slyly, swirling the bottle in hand. Varric already had a quill out, taking notes on a a worn kerchief he snatched off the passing a passing lass, flushed and smirking. Carver was snacking on peanuts, surprisingly amused by his slurring older brother.

Hawke folded his arms in thought, then said with certainty clear in his voice. ‘Because I stare at them every chance I get when he’s not looking.’

 

･ﾟﾟ･ . ･ﾟﾟ･ . ･ﾟﾟ･ .

‘I should have known better than to let you get so close. First rule of survival,’ Fenris uttered through gritted teeth as his blade bounced off Hawke’s staff. The mage had angled it just right so that he’d block the attack with calculated physics, ensuring that it didn’t snap in half like a bloody twig. Hawke was on the defence—refusing to strike Fenris with his magic and it only frustrated the elf even more.

Fenris broke through Hawke’s barrier easily. The blade cut through it like butter, and the spherical shape that erupted in a burst of mana didn’t so much as touch him. Ducking just in time, Hawke could hear Fenris’ blade pass over his head just inches away from his hair. Out of instinct, Hawke projected a powerful mind blast that sent Fenris across the courtyard. There was a flash of blue before the warrior streaked towards the mage, and Hawke ignited fiery walls of flame between them with a snap of his fingers.

When the walls dissipated, they were finally staring at each other, panting from exhaustion of reaching their physical and metal limits. Fenris held the Blade of Mercy across his shoulders and it was glowing beautifully, just as he was. _How ironic, he didn’t want that_ _fucking_ _sword in the first place_. He was serious then. This wasn’t just one of their heated spars, or practice sessions. Fenris was really out to kill him.

‘This is it? After everything we’ve been through together? Fenris st—‘

‘Yes,’ he answered. A simple word that betrayed him. Hawke could see how his partner brought his sword in front of him, readying a stance. Hands that once held his face so lovingly now gripped a sword’s hilt so tightly that they were trembling. Fenris was scared, and unsure, but Hawke could blame no one but himself. It was his fault for not making it seem that Fenris could trust him wholeheartedly. It was his fault that Fenris hesitated, and Hawke couldn’t blame him for trying to survive.

His own heartbeat felt excruciating as he uttered his next few words, taking a step forward. ‘I loved you. I hope you know that.’

Silence.

‘Did you love me?’ Hawke asked, almost in a whisper as he too gripped his weapon and took another step.

There was a blinding flash of light and if it wasn’t for the hum of lyrium that he caught just in time, Hawke would’ve been cut clean through the torso. Though he blocked the attack, Fenris overpowered him easily and the mage felt like his back was going to break against the ground. Hawke rolled out of the way just as Fenris sank his blade deep into the ground where his head was, but the elf was a trained killer, and instinctively, he grabbed Hawke’s staff. Pain tore through him, paralysing all his senses in the spilt second when the blade of his own staff was punctured through his torso. Hawke screamed when Fenris ripped it out, and he could feel his blood soaking the clothes underneath his armour. Wounded and disoriented, the Champion’s vision blurred as his lover raised the Blade of Mercy above him once again. Then, through clenched teeth, Fenris seethed in anger and pain and uttered the two words that broke the Champion’s heart.

‘I did,’ his voice cracked, bringing down the blade to deliver the final blow.

 

･ﾟﾟ･ . ･ﾟﾟ･ . ･ﾟﾟ･ .

A lot of times when Hawke was on the brink of death, he acted out of instinct. This was one of those times.

There was frost _everywhere_ —it encased parts of his armour in glimmering white crystals, stuck out from the ground, and made the air deathly cold. It was like a winter spell _exploded_ where they were. Then he saw it. Right there in front of him. Fenris was lifted above ground—shards of ice pierced through his armour, protruding through his back as he bled. Red ran through winter-white, crystallising sickeningly like red lyrium from the cold. The worse part were his eyes—once beautiful forest green, now completely devoid of its earthy hues, replaced with a void Hawke couldn’t quite explain. The elf’s head hung and his lips parted slightly, dripping blood that stained the ice.

_No._ Hawke screamed, but his voice didn’t come.

_Fenris?_ He watched the ice dissipate into nothingness—crackling as it did so—and the body of his former lover dropped lifelessly onto the ground just beside him with a thud like a discarded object. Fenris stared back at him—eyes hooded with death. Hawke could feel Anders’ magic surge through him—life literally pouring into him as his wounds healed. He heard the muffled voices of Isabela and Merrill calling to him, and watched in silent agony as Aveline and Varric approached Fenris’ body with their heads hung low, closing those beautiful eyes for the very last time.

* * *

 


End file.
